


(I Hope You Know) It's Not Easy For Me

by cœurdunerebelle (notjustalittlegirl)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Rejection, Self-Harm, its fairly mild tho, mostly happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustalittlegirl/pseuds/c%C5%93urdunerebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre proposes to Courfeyrac. It doesn't go quite how he hoped it would. </p><p> </p><p>I don't know how to summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I Hope You Know) It's Not Easy For Me

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. This is just an idea that I had at least 3 months ago but only just decided to write down. On that note, I'm sorry if this sucks because I literally wrote it in an hour and a half while hiding from my Dad who had a bad day at work and often deals with that by yelling at me. Also, this is unbeta'd. Enjoy.
> 
> Title from Taylor Swift's Breathe because I have a very bad habit of using her lyrics whenever I can't think of a title. (Which is most of the time)

The summer sky was slowly darkening, and Combeferre could just barely see the moon beginning to peek out over the tops of the tropical trees. It was almost a perfect crescent, and casting a glow over the ocean that looked almost pink when mixed with the muted orange of the sunset. Looking out the open window of the beach house that he and Courfeyrac had rented for the summer, Combeferre took a quick glance at the blue velvet ring box settled safely in his pocket. He took a deep breath and made the decision that he had been struggling over since the summer began: When To Propose To Courfeyrac. 

The sunset’s glow over the ocean looked promising, like the setting of many a proposal in one of those dumb romantic movies that his boyfriend inexplicably enjoyed. Yes, he was going to do it tonight. 

“Courf!” Combeferre jumped up off the sofa as the sky continued to darken. “Lets have a picnic on the beach!”

… 

20 minutes later, the two boyfriends were sat on the sand under the glow of the moon, just out of range of the waves.  A bottle of white wine sat next to them which, when combined with cold pizza from their movie night two days ago and baguette with butter, made up their (not very) romantic dinner. Combeferre watched Courfeyrac as his boyfriend since freshman year of college polished off his glass of wine while staring enchanted at the rolling waves crashing near them on the sand. 

Courfeyrac leaned back, abandoning his wine glass and resting his head on Combeferre’s lap. “This is so beautiful, Ferre. Thanks for suggesting this, babe.” 

Combeferre smiled nervously, running a hand absently through his boyfriend’s hair, and began to dig in his pocket, searching for the box containing the ring. Locating it and clasping it firmly in his fist, he gently pulled Courfeyrac’s head off his lap, provoking a distressed whine.  

“Courfeyrac,” he said quietly, the most nervous he had been in his life, including waiting for college acceptance letters. Including the day when he’d first asked Courfeyrac to be his boyfriend. Both of those things had gone fine, why on earth shouldn’t this?  

“Yeah, Ferre?” Courfeyrac sat up, shaking a few stray grains of sand out of his curls. Combeferre swallowed, biting his lip and squeezing the box for support.  

“Courfeyrac.” He said again, voice trembling slightly with nerves. “I have been completely in love with you since I was 20 years old. I love everything about you. You are the best thing in my life, and I would die for you in a heartbeat.” 

Courfeyrac smiled and kissed his boyfriend gently. Combeferre could feel the smile in his voice when his next words were whispered against his lips. “Love you too, Ferre.”

Combeferre took a deep breath, steeling himself, and opened the small box, revealing  golden band with speckles of silver. “Courfeyrac, will you… Oh, my god. This is… hard! I didn’t think It’d be this hard. Courfeyrac, w-will you do me the immense honor of m-marrying me?” 

Having finally managed to get the words out, Combeferre waited expectantly for his boyfriend to take the ring, to say yes, maybe even to squeal and kiss him passionately. Instead, Courfeyrac gazed regretfully at him and shut the box, placing it to the side and taking Combeferre’s hands, which had begun to shake slightly from fear of the words he knew was coming but didn’t want to hear, in his own. 

“Combeferre,” he said quietly, trying to be as gentle as he possibly could while rejecting a marriage proposal that his boyfriend had clearly had his heart set on and been absolutely terrified of asking, judging by his earlier stuttering and what had to have been a death grip on the little box. “I’m sorry. I love you, I love you so much, but I don’t want to get married. Ever. I…” He gazed at Combeferre more closely, and was horrified to find his lovely brown  eyes glistening with tears that had started to spill out onto his cheeks. 

“Oh, no! No, Ferre, please don’t cry! Don’t cry, sweetheart! I love you, I just-” 

Courfeyrac was suddenly cut off by Combeferre grabbing the box containing the most beautiful ring that he’d ever seen, shoving it back into his pocket and standing up, accidentally knocking over his still-full wine glass in the process.  

“Okay,” he said quietly, and Courfeyrac could hear the telltale signs that Combeferre was about to begin sobbing. “It’s fine, Courf. Whatever you want. Honestly. I just want you to be happy, and if being married to me won’t make you happy, we don’t need to get married. It was only a thought.” 

Combeferre walked back briskly across the beach and towards the house, and Courfeyrac was sure that the terrible sound of his boyfriend’s (were they even boyfriends anymore?) sobbing was what heartbreak must sound like. 

He sat silently on the beach, slow tears of his own beginning to fall from his eyes as he tried not to imagine Combeferre, alone upstairs in their bed, trying to come to terms with the fact that the person who he loved had just told him that they were never going get married. After enough time had passed that the sun had sunk completely over the horizon, leaving a darkness that was only lessened by the glow cast on the water by the moon, Courfeyrac stood up, almost robotically, and gathered the remains of their ruined picnic. As he carried it all back towards the house, he couldn’t stop himself from taking a long swig from the wine bottle to try and numb the fact that Combeferre was sad and it was his fault. The guilt, mixed in with heartbreak, was the worst feeling that he had ever felt.

…  

Late that night, after Courfeyrac had spent several long hours falling in and out of a fitful sleep on the lumpy couch where he had elected to spend the night, he decided to give up on the pointless idea of peacefully resting until morning. Sitting up, he gazed out the window at the consuming darkness. As he scanned the nothingness of what had been, only hours ago, a beautiful view, his eyes caught on a lone figure standing by the waves. 

As he watched, Combeferre pulled what, even with Courfeyrac’s limited view, could only be the ring from his pocket and threw it as far as he could into the ocean before collapsing in a heap on the damp sand, shoulders shaking. 

Courfeyrac’s internal debate about whether he should go out and comfort Combeferre was instantly solved when he saw him unmistakably scratch his fingernails across his face several times. 

At that sight, Courfeyrac jumped off the couch and ran outside as quickly as he could, not bothering with either a shirt or slippers. The closer he got to the water’s edge, the more clearly he could hear the sounds that signified Combeferre’s sadness, from the gasping noise of each and every sob to the faint ripping sound as his (ex?) boyfriend’s fingernails tried to inflict the pain in his heart onto his body. 

“Ferre,” whispered Courfeyrac softly, approaching more slowly now. “Come back inside.” 

Combeferre shook his head back and forth violently and, as it turned, Courfeyrac could see the small trails of blood, mixing with tears, falling from where Combeferre’s nails had managed to break the skin. 

“Baby,” Courfeyrac cooed gently, still trying to decide if he could get away with holding Combeferre or if even his being close by was too much. “No, don’t hurt yourself. I’m not worth it.” 

Combeferre didn’t respond, but his sobs redoubled. Courfeyrac’s internal debate over offering any sort of physical comfort was solved when the other man started to shake even harder, bringing his hands up away from carving trails on his cheeks to tangle in his hair, beginning to pull it out in chunks. 

Courfeyrac wrapped his arms firmly around him, pulling his hands away from his hair and holding him tightly to his bare chest and letting him cry. 

At first, Combeferre struggled, trying to free himself from the unwanted embrace. Eventually, however, he went limp and allowed Courfeyrac to hold him, soaking the other man’s shoulder in tears and small smears of blood where his face pressed against him. Courfeyrac’s heart broke impossibly further at Combeferre’s next words, whispered shakily between sobs.  

“Courf… why don’t you want to marry me?”  

Courfeyrac hummed and began rocking the shaking Combeferre back and forth in his arms. “Shh, sweetheart. Shh. It’s not you. It’s not. I… I’m just not brave enough for marriage. I can’t explain why, but I’ve always been afraid of it. It’s such a huge thing, and I’m worried that it would change things between us, and I don’t know how my family would react. But, I promise, I’m here for you for as long as you want me. I don’t want to get married, but I do want to be with you like this forever.” 

Combeferre wrapped his arms around Courfeyrac’s neck as they continued to rock back and forth on the beach, his tears finally beginning to trickle off. His boyfriend risked giving him a kiss on the forehead, which pulled Combeferre’s vulnerable next words from him.  

“Do you promise?” 

Courfeyrac nodded vigorously, pulling Combeferre down next to him to lie cuddled together on the sand. He kissed him lightly on the head again, not wanting to push boundaries after rejecting his marriage proposal mere hours ago. “So,” he whispered. “We good?”

The several hours’ worth of tears were beginning to dry on Combeferre’s face as he snuggled even closer to Courfeyrac, ignoring the slight discomfort of the gritty sand on his bare arms. “Yeah. I think we’re going to be just fine.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if this sucked. Thanks for reading!


End file.
